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Sometimes, I want time to move on. Or maybe not time; I want myself, to move on. But usual, I’m slow, and usual, I wait too long. At least 10 years of my life have passed, just like that. Now, sometimes, I regret it, but depression captured me, and even if I wanted to do – I couldn’t act different in that time. So I should’t regret. But sometimes, these feelings come over and make me feel I do.

Years ago, I could have gone on a trip to Japan with my previous Jiu Jitsu club. I didn’t – why? Because I was too afraid. I never went on an airplane, I never went so far, I had to go with 98% of unknown people there. Now? I can hit myself that I didn’t go.

Last year, I could have gone on a trip to Georgia (Between Russia and Armenia, not the state of the USA) because I had the time and money. I didn’t – why? Because I was too afraid.

So I can mention much more things. It’s a miracle I finished university – though it didn’t get me a job, it could have gave me a debt as twice as high if I failed.

Now? I feel like I’m done with my old life. And still I’m a bit stuck. I want to enjoy life, I want to experience, I want to see the world, I want a #### job! I want to earn money, I want to be able to have a place to live, a place to live with i-love-very-much-far-away-friend , I want to be able to buy a (second hand) car, I want to be able to buy new clothes I want without having to calculate and think for a month. I want to be able to take someone to the movies. To eat out sometimes. To go on a bicycle ride and sit in the sun in the park. To go to a museum. To go to the mountains in the weekend. To learn to ski. To buy someone a nice present. To do nice things for people. There is so much I want. But at the same time, these things give so much pressure- this little depression voice -you failed, failed failed failed failed in life . You managed so far to get your (hopeless) degree, but your life didn’t get any better – it even got worse. You never managed to find a job, you never managed to take care of yourself completely. You can’t be free – you can not afford your own little place to live, you are dependent on people who are nice to you. *SHOOT* stop.

I’m going to move in a while, abroad again. I look very forward to it, I need a change. But at the same time I’m really afraid: what if I can’t make it? What if I still can’t find a job? This is really scary – I so want to make this work. I so want to make this work.

I wish I could shoot this depression monster, that sometimes comes up inside of me. The thing that brings the fear, the thing that causes these doubts, that thing that messes up with my self confidence.

That is there, still, deep inside of me, though I managed to cut down its strenght. But it’s still there, I know, it knows.